The Heart of the Games
by musicofthewater
Summary: Everybody knows what happened during the 74th Hunger Games, but what about the year before? A fearless boy from District 7 set the rebellion in motion after hearing his mentor's story.
1. Chapter 1

I look myself over in the mirror one more time. Old, worn button-down shirt and slacks. Slicked back hair. Fearless, blazing eyes.

Today is the reaping. Everyone is terrified of getting chosen, and while I know that I am about as safe as a can get, a part of me wants to get picked. I want to show the Capitol up somehow, make it look foolish, even if I lose my life trying. The cruel game that the Capitol plays to keep the twelve districts in submission is getting old. It infuriates me that they can control every aspect of our lives, and end them in a split second if they so desire, but no one stands up to their tyranny. Everybody is too scared. Not that I can blame them. But I know that someday, I'm going to stand up to them. I'm going to work to make a better world for the generations ahead. Because I have an advantage that most other people don't. I have nothing to lose.

The Capitol's favorite way to control people is hurt or kill their loved ones. People aren't scared for their own lives; they're scared for the lives of those they love. But I don't have anyone that I truly love. My parents were killed when I was just six years old by a forest fire that devastated District 7. Almost a thousand people were killed and nearly half the district's lumber was burned into uselessness. The orphanage was flooded that year as more and more parentless children were brought in. I was one of them. And I watched as kids died left and right of starvation because there was no money to buy food without the profits from the lumber that had been burned.

The loss taught me to harden myself to emotions, to learn not to care for someone because it'll just get you hurt. Some have called me heartless because of this, but it doesn't bother me. Words, like emotions, just bounce right off me.

The clock strikes noon. I hear Candi, the overly-hyper director of the orphanage, yelling at everybody to come to the front hall so that we could leave for the village square and have time to get checked in before the reaping. I sigh as I glance at my reflection one last time and leave the room that I share with eleven other teenage boys.

"Name?"

"Kole Thurman."

The peacekeeper finds my name on his list, takes my blood sample, and lazily points me in the direction of the rest of the seventeen-year-old boys that I am to stand with. I take my place between two boys I know from school. We give each other curt nods, but none of us are in the mood for conversation. No one ever is until the reaping is over and the danger to themselves or their loved ones is lost.

The sun beats down on my face as I watch Polly Strumpet, our district's escort, the mayor, and the previous victors file onto a stage at the front of the square. One of the victors, Johanna Mason, winks at me.

I claim not to care about anyone, but she could be the sole exception. Because she's so much like me. She too grew up in the orphanage, and although she's a few years older than me, we became friends and looked after each other growing up. I was fourteen when she was reaped a couple years ago at the age of sixteen, and I watched as she played the part of a sniveling coward, fooling almost everyone but me, and then murdered viciously when the time came. The children at the orphanage always watched the Games together there, forced to listen to Candi's wails if one of the orphanage kids is a tribute. During Johanna's year, she cried every time the cameras time the cameras followed her if the arena, bemoaning the "poor girl who couldn't hurt a fly." But I was never worried about her. I laughed when, as Candi predicted, the last two Careers came after her when there were only a couple of players left. But unlike Candi predicted, Johanna didn't die. She shocked the Careers by burying an axe in the head of the girl from District 1 and using the massive District 2 boy's temporary befuddlement to grab the girl's knife and slit his throat before he even knew what had happened. She then hunted down the last two, a pair from District 6, and killed them mercilessly. And then she was a victor, returned to District 7 with a new respect from everyone.

A hush fell over the crowd as the mayor stepped up to the podium to read his speech about how Panem came about. Nobody paid attention until it came time for him to sit back down and Polly stood up to pick the names of this year's tributes. But first she treated us to a gushing spiel about how happy she was to be the escort for District 7, how she knew we would have a winner this year, and a bunch of other lies that no one cared to listen to. Finally, with a cry of "Ladies first!" she waltzed over to the glass bowl filled with the girls' names and drew a slip.

"Lilly Montgomery!" I turned around to see a tiny, thirteen-year-old girl step from the crowd and start toward the stage. I hear the boy to my right yell out, and, with a pang, realize that she is his sister. But there is nothing he can do. Only a girl can volunteer for another girl, and the crowd is silent as Polly asks if there are any volunteers. As little as I try to care, I do hate it when children that young are picked. They're still so innocent. And then they're forced into arena where they must watch children die bloody, gory deaths before being inevitably murdered themselves because they're just no match for the giant Careers.

"Time for the boys now!" Polly shrieks joyfully as she turns to the boys' bowl. I hold my breath as she pulls out a slip, half hoping it's my name that she'll read out, half-hoping that it will be someone that I've never met.

"Kole Thurman!"

I disengage myself from the crowd and walk toward the stage, my face emotionless except for the sadistic smile playing at my lips.


	2. Chapter 2

The Peacekeepers march me into the Justice Building and sit me in a fancy room for an hour so I can say good-bye to all my nonexistent loved ones. I don't expect any visitors. The only person who will care that I'm gone is Johanna, and she'll be mentoring Lilly, so I'll see her plenty leading up to the games. I'm wrong about not having any visitors, though. About five minutes after the Peacekeepers leave me, a hysterical Candi enters the room. This only angers me, because as much as she pretends to care for us, we all know she doesn't. I wouldn't be surprised if she didn't even know my name until Polly read it off that slip. I don't play nice as she tries to hug me; I stand rigidly with my arms folded while she sobs on my shirt.

"We're all going to miss you so much," she sniffs. "So kind and caring…it's all so unfair." If I needed any more proof that she had no idea who I was, I had it now. I may not be as entirely heartless as people think, but anyone who describes me as kind and caring is delusional.

"Good bye Candi," I say, prying her off me and leading her to the door. "Nice knowing you." _Except not really_, I think to myself. She keeps up the act as she exits the room, sobbing as though she is heartbroken that I have been chosen. In a way, I am almost glad that I am going to die if it means that I won't have to deal with her anymore.

I sit alone in my room for the rest of the hour. Finally, the Peacekeepers retrieve me and lead Lilly and me to the train station. Although she is trying to look brave, her eyes are still red and she lets out the occasional sniffle. Unlike me, she has had quite a few visitors. I feel bad for the kid. If she won, she could have a family, friends, and a future to come back to. But I know there's no chance of that. Even if she could hide from the other tributes, the Gamemakers would drive them together eventually and she wouldn't have a prayer. She's so small that I'd be willing to bet she couldn't hurt a fly. For kids her age, the reaping is about the same as a death sentence. But much, much more cruel.

As we enter the train, I try not to let my astonishment at all the finery show. I know everything from the Capitol is fancy and luxurious, but having never experienced it myself, I am unprepared for the actual thing. I'm used to sharing everything with every other kid at the orphanage, of only owning clothes that have been worn by ten other boys before me. In fact, the very outfit I'm wearing now is a hand-me-down reaping outfit that has been worn for several years. A couple days before each reaping, Candi just calls us all down to try on different outfits and we just see what fits whom. It doesn't matter if you like it or not; if it fits, you take it. Argue and you don't get dinner.

I scarf down every plate of food that is put in front of me at dinner, amazed against my will at the tastes that greet my tongue. I see Lilly eating similarly, but Johanna and Logan, a man in his mid-thirties who will be my mentor, have a bit more restraint. Polly watches Lilly and me with disdain at out obvious lack of Capitol table manners, as if we should have learned them somehow.

Once we have eaten all that our stomachs can hold, we retire to the lavish sitting room to watch the recaps of the reapings across the country. The Careers from districts 1,2, and 4 look as formidable as always. There is a menacing boy from 8 and a sly-looking girl from 10, but the rest of the tributes appear scared and half-starved. Little threat, unless they are trying to play Johanna's game. I am pleased with how I seem, though. I don't flinch when my name is called, no shock or disbelief crosses my face; I just calmly leave the group of boys and walk up to the stage. My gray eyes look cold and angry, the hint of a smile at my lips makes me look cocky and arrogant. In fact, these combined with my height and relatively strong build make me seem like a legitimate threat. Maybe I have a chance at these games after all.

"Someone looks scary," Johanna remarks with a smirk. "Sure you don't want to play the little crybaby and then kill them all?"

"I think some obnoxious little brat already did that," I say dryly.

"Damn right she did. You know, you might actually have a shot at this if you play it right. Even that boy from 1 isn't that much bigger than you. It'd be a good fight if it came down to it. And if you won you could live next to me in the Victor's Village," she says with a smile.

"And there goes my motivation for winning," I say sarcastically. But even as I say it, I smile. Johanna is about the only person who can draw a smile or laugh out of me. It works the other way, too. Most people don't even know that she has a sense of humor. She just seems cold-hearted and moody. A lot like me. It's probably why we get along so well.

"She's right, you know. You have a good shot at this. I've seen you in the woods; you're good with an axe. If you could get your hands on one in the arena, the title could be yours," says Logan, speaking for the first time tonight. I'd almost completely forgotten he was there. I've only talked to him occasionally, but he seems alright. Victors aren't required to work, and they often don't because they have more money than they could ever spend, but Logan does. I started working in the woods cutting down trees when I was fifteen to make a little extra money. I've seen him there often; he's there almost every day, although I've never figured out why he bothers.

"What about me?" Lilly pipes up all of a sudden. We all look around at each other, none of us knowing what to say. Lie and tell her she can win or get her hopes up only to be murdered? It turns out we don't need to decide, however. "I know I can't win, but can you at least not tell him all about how he could come home and have a nice house in the Victor's Village when I'm right here? And could my mentor at least pretend like she wants me to win instead of helping my opponent?" she says, glaring at Johanna. We are all still staring at her, shocked at her sudden outburst, as she stomps off to her room.

"Maybe she has a little more fire in her than I thought," says Johanna, glancing guiltily down the hall where Lilly had disappeared.

"More fire than any of us thought," agrees Logan.


	3. Chapter 3

Lilly doesn't talk to any of us at breakfast that morning. Apparently she also has a talent for holding grudges that we didn't know about. But her words last night still have their intended effect; none of us say anything about the Games. In fact, none of us really say anything at all. Her icy demeanor has coated the room, silencing us all. I can't say I blame her, though. I would be pretty upset if it had been me and I had been ignored by my supposed team in favor of a bigger, stronger opponent. Nevertheless, I'm sort of impressed that she was able to stand up to us at all. Most girls her age would have just seethed in silence.

I ignore the iciness in the room and focus on eating as much as I can. Then I am forced to meet my prep team and stylist to get ready for the opening ceremony, where I am sure I will be dressed as a tree.

My stylist is Tricia, an elderly woman who has worked with the District 7 tributes for as long as anyone can remember. She has had a multitude of different partners who work on the second tribute, but they are never able to override her on her decisions as to how the tributes are dressed in the opening ceremony. She calls it her "life's work," dressing children from District 7 with an almost absolute death sentence as trees. I am dead on about my costume; this year Lilly and I will be sycamores. Last year the tributes were maples. While adjusting one of my branches, Tricia tells me that she's thinking of oaks for next year.

"But although the oaks are certainly lovely, I think that a sycamore is definitely the best tree for you," she assures me. "Nice and strong." Personally, I think I would look ridiculous dressed as any kind of tree.

The opening ceremony passes in a blur. I try not to draw attention to myself, instead just hiding behind my multitude of leaves and hoping that the cameras don't get too many shots of me looking like an idiot. If I'm going to intimidate my competition, I don't think that this is the best way to start. I just do my best to get through the ordeal as quick as possible, and then I bolt up to my room and strip off the costume as fast as I can. I throw it away before anyone can think of making me put it back on. I take a shower and fall into bed, drifting off quickly into sleep after a rough day of being a tree.

Lilly seems to have forgiven us by the next morning. She didn't acknowledge me at all on the chariot last night even after I told her she looked nice (not completely true, but she pulled off the outfit better than I did), but she is talking to Logan, Johanna, and Polly when I enter the room for breakfast. I take this in as a good sign and join the conversation as we try to develop a strategy for today's training with the other tributes. Although I would never admit it, I can feel a few butterflies in my stomach. Logan leaves the decision of whether or not to reveal my strengths to the other tributes up to me, so I spend the rest of the morning trying to make up my mind. I put on my training gear and head to the gym, deciding just to wing it.

Atala, the head trainer, gives us a run down of the different stations before releasing us to choose what we want to do. I head over to the edible plants station, figuring that the plants the trainer teaches me about might give me some clue as to what waits for me in the arena. I recognize many of the leaves from the woods back home. Although I pass the test with relative ease, the trainer reminds me to look out for one particular plant before I leave. Monkshood looks like an innocent flower, but its petals are deadly. Even a tiny amount of its poison can kill a person almost instantly. I wonder if his warnings mean that the plant will definitely be found in the arena.

Before I can think too much about the plant, the bell rings, signaling that it is time for lunch. I get my food and am contemplating where to sit when a large, muscular boy approaches me and asks if I want to sit with his group. I agree and walk towards his table, all the while trying to remember his name and district. He solves that problem by introducing himself as Soren, the male tribute from District 1. I feel like an idiot for not realizing he was a career. It seems obvious looking at him now; no other tributes look as strong or menacing. He leads me to a table on the far side of the room and introduces me his fellow tribute from District 1, both from districts 2 and 4, and the huge boy from 8 that I noticed during the recap of the reapings.

Once everyone is seated and eating, Soren begins a speech about how he wants to go down as the greatest Career team in the history of the games. He believes that the eight of us are the strongest tributes and describes how we will hunt down the others and viciously murder them to give the Capitol audience the best show they've ever seen. He dominates the conversation, barely allowing anyone else to make a comment, and the more he talks, the more I dislike him. He embodies the brutality that I've come to associate with Careers, and his thirst for blood is as despicable as that in the Capitol that keeps the Games going. Looking around the table, I see that the District 2 boy, who looks to be about fifteen, is drinking in every word that Soren says. I think I remember his name to be Calvin. He doesn't seem to be much better than Soren except to be less outspoken. Kessia, the girl from 4, looks as disgusted as I feel. I decide I like her. The rest of the Careers appear indifferent.

Despite my growing hatred of Soren, I agree to become part of his "super Career pack." I figure it's probably my best chance at staying alive and, although it would be low, maybe I could slit his throat in his sleep or something.

To prove that I can be a Career, I begin using the weapons after lunch. I throw spears with Calvin, shoot arrows with the District 2 girl, Mara, and wield knives with Kessia and Syndra, the girl from 1. Spending time with them allows me to get to know them better, and I decide that I definitely do not like Calvin. He follows Soren around like a desperate puppy and is just as bloodthirsty as his idol. I conclude that Syndra is evil. With her emerald green eyes and blond curls, she is beautiful, but devious. I make a mental note not to trust her. Mara is all right. She is focused and determined to win, but only to save her own life, not for the thrill of killing like Soren and Calvin.

But the more I get to know Kessia, the more I like her. Even facing the Hunger Games, she has a remarkable sense of humor that makes me laugh more than I can remember laughing in a long time. And although she is a good fighter, she admits that she doesn't want to kill someone unless she's left with absolutely no choice. I know it's a bad idea, but I can't help but be attracted to her with her long dark hair and chocolate brown eyes. I find myself just hoping that it doesn't come down to her and me.

Even though I don't like half of my new alliance, I still wonder how I'm supposed to be able to kill them all. I don't like the idea of taking a life, even to save my own, and I dread the moment when we will all enter the arena.


	4. Chapter 4

The next few days pass by in a blur. I spend most of my time training, trying to prepare for the games the best that I can with the slim hope that I can make it out alive. During my private training session with the Gamemakers, I throw axes at targets, my biggest strength. But I also hurl a few spears and knives to prove that there are multiple aspects to my game. I feel relatively confident about my session, and am rewarded with a 9 for my efforts. I am pleased to see that my allies have also scored highly, the lowest score being an 8. I dread Soren's inevitable boasting about his 10, but am glad that the other tributes will know not to mess with us.

I am still sitting on the couch watching TV as my companions retire to bed one by one. Lilly is pleased with her 7, and I can't help but be impressed, wondering what she was able to do in her session. She beams as she bids me good night, and Johanna tells me good job before following her. Then it is just me and Logan.

"So be honest with me. What do you think my chances of getting out of there alive are?" I ask him.

"Depends. What's your definition of alive?" I stare at him, confused at his answer. "If you mean winning the Games, then I think you have as good a chance as any Career who has trained their whole life. But even if you get out, you won't be the same person."

"What are you talking about?" I ask, completely befuddled.

"You don't get it do you? Even if you get out of there with your life, you still never truly escape. You are forced to return to the Capitol each year, relive it, watch more children die year after year, try futilely to bring the tributes that you mentor back home. And all the while you have nightmares and flashbacks, unable to forget what you went through. It never leaves you."

I don't even know what to say to him. I am too in shock. I had imagined that the games might be slightly traumatizing considering the gore that accompanied them, but I always imagined that the wealth, fame, and glory drove the bad memories from victors' minds. Apparently I was wrong. After sitting in silence for a few minutes, I gather the courage to ask him what his Games were like. He debates a moment, then asks me if I felt I needed sleep that night. I told him no. And so, with a sad smile, he begins his tale.


End file.
